


In Sickness & In Health

by apollothyme



Category: Marvel
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothyme/pseuds/apollothyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn’t sick, some people might say he was sick but those people were lying bastards because Tony Stark wasn’t, didn't even get, <i>sick</i>. It just wasn’t possible for him to be anything other than constantly awesome, and that’s a written fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness & In Health

He wasn’t sick, some people might say he was sick but those people were lying bastards because Tony Stark wasn’t, didn’t even get, _sick_. It just wasn’t possible for him to be anything other than constantly awesome, and that’s a written fact. So he wasn’t sick, he was slightly incapacitated, and his body’s temperature was a little bit higher than usual and maybe Tony had already used three packets of tissues since the previous day, but really, who’s counting?

Well, Steve was, Steve was totally counting and keeping check on everything but Tony was pretty sure he always did that anyway, so besides him, and maybe Jarvis, nobody was keeping track of those silly little, non-sickness things. Steve was also taking care of Tony as the inventor lied in his bed for countless hours, playing on his Stark Tablet and trying to create a new engine for the Quinjet. Tony was also failing miserably at it; turns out it’s a bit hard to put together a string of rational, eloquent thoughts when you can’t even go five minutes without blowing your nose. 

Tony looked at the clock for what had to be the twenty seventh time in thirty minutes, and decided he’d had enough of waiting. If Steve didn’t allow him to get out of bed to do his work properly, because in Tony’s head the creation of a new engine was totally work even though he couldn’t even type his password correctly to access the relevant files, the least the other man could do was make sure Tony was comfortable and happy, which he absolutely wasn’t at the moment.

“ _Steeeeeeeeebe_!” Tony cried at the top of his lungs as he tried to cover his body in another blanket to make himself look more pitiful.

“I’m coming Tony, just give me a second.” Steve shouted from somewhere, probably the kitchen, making Tony frown in frustration. He didn’t want another second, he wanted Steve now.

“Steeeebe, I’m hungry Stebeee.” Tony continued whining until he saw a shadow by his doorstep, soon followed by the owner of said shadow carrying a tray with a bowl of soup.

“There, Stebe is finally here with the soup. Is the royal highness happy now?” Tony ignored Steve’s sarcastic remark, already used to Steve’s humor and was about to reply that yes, he was indeed quite happy with the new appearance of soup into their relationship, when he fully comprehended what Steve had just said.

“What did you say?” He asked with a very poignant look, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I said I was here…” Steve replied with his head slightly tilted sideways in confusion, just like a lost puppy would.

“What did you call yourself?” Tony practically growled his words, a sudden anger overcoming his weak body as Steve had the indecency to laugh, actually _laugh_ at his face when he finally realized what Tony meant.

“I called myself Stebe, now stop acting silly and take your soup.” Steve replied as he lowered the tray into Tony’s lap with a simple ease.

“No, but, I mean, why?”

“Because that’s what you’ve been calling me since yesterday.” The way Steve answered was probably the worst, so simple and relaxed, as if he was just stating a quiet fact instead of affirming Tony couldn’t speak properly.

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No it-“

“Tony, have you heard yourself talking? You sound like a duck.” Steve said this as easily as someone might say ‘the weather is looking pretty good today, do you wanna go get a burger?’, and it took all of Tony’s self-control to not throw his soup into Steve’s face. It wasn’t even for Steve’s sake; it was just that the soup looked really good. Tony threw the pillow next to him instead.

“Hey, I’m sorry; I’m just being honest here.” Steve held his arms in front of his face in protection, afraid Tony was going to start throwing random items at him. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

“I do not speak like a duck,” A pause for some soup “ _Stebe_.” Tony stopped immediately in his track, a spoon full of soup hanging in midair, as he the sound of his own words reached his ears. Shit. He did sound like a duck, a very sexy duck, full of charm and intelligence, but a duck nonetheless.

Steve, on the other hand, only gave him an “I told you so” look as he searched for his sketchbook. 

“This doesn’t mean I’m sick though.” Tony said, not wanting to fully lose this fight. It was bad enough he had to live with the embarrassment of sounding like a duck, he wasn’t going to admit he was sick now too.

“Of course it doesn’t my love.” Replied Steve as he lightly kissed the top of Tony’s head, settling in with his sketchbook next to Tony’s fort of blankets and pillows. Steve was a smart man, he knew when a fight was lost and when he should stop pushing things, and Tony admitting he was sick was probably something that was only going to happen the day pigs started flying. Non-genetically modified pigs mind you, the ones Dr. Doom made didn’t count.

“If you keep kissing me like that you’re gonna end up in bed with me, and then there’s going to be no one to make soup.”

“But I’m already in bed with you, aren’t I?” Tony chuckled offhandedly at Steve’s reply. No matter how many times Steve did it, Tony would always find his small jokes funnier than they probably were, something he’d never really done before. But that was okay, because Tony had found many new things in his relationship with Steve.

Mainly things like being kissed on the top of his head, having someone taking care of him while asking nothing in return, and being called ‘love’, not in the petty away couples called each other, but in the heart-warming way when the full meaning behind the word was actually meant.

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

Tony would never admit it aloud, but he couldn’t deny there were a couple good perks that came with being sick and having Stebe take care of him.


End file.
